


The Window

by SLWalker



Series: Arch to the Sky [38]
Category: due South
Genre: Arch to the Sky, Chicago (1995-1998), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1996: Irene Zuko's calling hours, after Juliet is Bleeding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Window

He couldn't look away from the window.

Outside, winter; grays and whites and blacks, all colorless and cold.  The light was muted.  The world was muted.  Everything was muted.

Inside, the world was all warm light and bright flowers and black.  Everything was perfect; arrangements and people in their best and her, beautiful and still.

Ray would have rather been on the other side of the window.

Occasionally a particularly loud wail made his shoulders twitch, a flinch against the horrible noise that broke what should have been a solemn, sedate, elegant occasion, what should have been worthy of the woman it was being held for.  But the 'I hurt more and I'll prove it' types were in attendance.

He wanted to get angry about it.  Wanted to throw it all at them, too.  He wanted to snarl at them.  But Ray just couldn't; he had nothing left.  He was, as the world outside, colorless and muted.  All that was left was a swirl of guilt and grief, equal measures.  He had a million reasons to feel both.

He startled again at the hand on his upper arm, delicate and long-nailed.  He knew it well.  It still took him several long moments to speak, and then it was just above a cracked whisper, "Hey, Frannie."

Frannie cut to the chase, just squeezing his arm before sliding her hand down to lace her fingers through his.  "C'mon, Ray.  Take us home."  Like his own voice, it was soft and quiet, edged with sorrow.

Ray never looked away from the window. He thought he'd answered in the affirmative, but after a minute or two passed, Frannie spoke again and he realized he hadn't: "Irene would get it.  C'mon, you don't have to stay here."

His jaw clenched briefly.  "Yeah."  One word.  _I know._

Finally, he managed to tear his gaze away from the window.  It flickered over the crowd, many of whom hated him now in a way that they hadn't really before.  Many, also, who loved him.  All of whom he felt removed from.  And finally, it landed on Irene; beautiful and pristine and still, laid out amongst the flowers.  She would be on the other side of the glass tomorrow, in the cold.

Frannie gave his hand a tug, and Ray didn't resist.  He just headed along with her, back out into the cold himself.


End file.
